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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Other · #1909516
what we do to forget reality
Who rips off love like a used condom?
Flushing it away after he’s killed the life in it –

Who wears her pain, bad habits, and guilt like a ratty shawl against the cold?

Awareness not quite beyond grasp in the amber glass, shattered end buried,
written on a gravestone in blood –

born – died, gone never Forgotten.
© Copyright 2012 Brandilea Willoughby (brandilea at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1909516-Forgotten